


Oh, How The Mighty Have Fallen

by coMANNNdo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Blood, F/F, Fluff, Gore, Post canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3722185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coMANNNdo/pseuds/coMANNNdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 2 finale one-shot. The Grounder Commander was been exposed to the Red, and was converted into a Reaper. The Grounder healers were unable to heal her due to their inexperience, and were forced to turn to the Sky People as a result.</p>
<p>And, of course, Clarke Griffin has to clean up the mess.</p>
<p>Goddamnit, Lexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, How The Mighty Have Fallen

Screams. Clarke heard them often, being part of Camp Jaha's medical department. Blood-chilling, whimpering, pleading. They didn't change much from person to person, expression of pain was just a fundamental part of being a human being.

It had been a few years since the battle of Mount Weather, and in the time since, Camp Jaha had only become bigger and stronger. Reinforced with the immense amount of supplies and facilities that Abby and Kane had chosen to salvage from the military base, and with the skill sets of chemists, mechanics, engineers, and more that had been bought down with the Ark; they had evolved from a struggling, disorientated few hundred people into an established colony of around a thousand, Sky People and 'converted' Grounders alike. Their government system had taken a massive blow after Mount Weather - the people had questioned who their true leader was, their laws, their ideals, the very fabric of their society. Eventually it had stabilized again after weeks of councils and votes with new laws and ideals (Abby and Kane became joint Chancellors with the advice of Clarke and Bellamy on hand once Clarke had returned from her personal endeavor after the battle of Mt. Weather), and their truce with the Grounders had been rebuilt and solidified into an steadfast alliance. The Sky People had only survived through the past few winters with their help, and now they had slowly began to merge together, evolving and adapting along with the other.

Despite the currently satisfactory circumstances between the two peoples, the Grounder Commander's name had been wordlessly banned from Clarke's presence. Clarke and the Commander still attended councils that the other would be present at as long as it was necessary, underneath the unspoken requirement that other people would be there. They were all long and lingering gazes, monotones, blank masks, and once the necessary topics had been covered, Clarke would usually stiffly stride out with the excuse that yet another idiot had been waving around a sword when they shouldn't have been and she needed to check their stitches. The Commander seemed to have otherwise forgotten the events of _that_ night, unfazed by how she had plunged her sword into the blonde's back and twisted it 360 degrees. The blonde did understand why the _Commander_ had done it - she had made a similar decision when she had condemned all of the Mountain Men to death after all - but at the same time she didn't understand how _Lexa_ could have done it.

 

Snapping out of auto-pilot, Clarke pulled the needle through the man's skin once last time, pulling the stitch tight as he came down from his last scream, all hoarse pants and swear words. The people in the surrounding beds were still glaring at her current patient, perplexed at how low his pain tolerance was. "It's okay, we're almost done. Just need to bandage it so it doesn't get infected, okay?" All he could was nod, teeth gritted. The blonde thought she could hear a collective sigh of relief from around the room, just for it to be cut short by a sudden outbreak of muffled chaos from outside. Hearing the word 'Medic!' screamed outside, she started to count the seconds until someone would inevitably stumble into the room and call her name.

 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fiv- "Clarke!" Bellamy burst in, all frantic walk and sweat, trying to ignore the momentary panicked glances he got from the occupants of the Medical Bay, soldiers running past in all sorts of directions behind him before the medical bay doors swung shut again and the sound of chaos was muffled again. The aforementioned person looked up from the man she was currently bandaging, seemingly unfazed by Bellamy's sudden intrusion and how his hand that held his lowered handgun was visibly trembling. It was hard to be fazed by a fast chain of events when you were a medic.

"What is it, Bellamy?" Clarke returned the majority of her attention to bandaging the man's arm, keen to finish off this patient and finish her shift for the day. She had seen too much blood today, and she wasn't sure she could stitch up another person who had thought that swords were toys without screaming.

"The Grounders need our help. There's been an small outbreak of Reapers to the east. Their healers managed to bring one or two minor cases under control, and the rest had to be killed because they had been exposed to the Red for too long. But there's one they can't heal. Not by themselves, at least."

"And? Why are they here if they can't heal them?" Clarke paused as she tugged the bandage tighter, before adding on in a worried tone, "Didn't we destroy all of the Red when we took over the Mountain?"

Bellamy paused, before taking a breath and blurting it out so fast that Clarke had to pause for several moments to piece together what he had said. "Because it's the Commander."

The blonde's head whipped up so fast he was simultaneously surprised and impressed that she hadn't gotten whiplash from it. She immediately called for one of the medical assistants to come over, handing her the bandage and briefing her on what was left to do with the sword-wielding idiot, before grabbing Bellamy by his handgun-free wrist and all but dragged him outside at a brisk walk. Once she had reached a more secluded place, she whirled around and immediately started questioning him. "What do I have to do with it? How bad is it? How did she even get exposed to the Red? Didn't we destroy it all? Why didn't her people notice her absence? She's the fucking _Commander_!" She punctuated each question with hand gestures, trying to find an effective way to channel her confusion and disbelief.

Clarke almost felt sorry for Bellamy and his overwhelmed expression, it would've been almost funny in another time and in another place. "We don't know, Clarke. All I know is that Indra made a specific request for Abby and you to see to Lex- the Commander. They're in the Prison Bay, Section A, Cell 2. We can figure out how the outbreak happened later."

"Okay. That's fine. Sure. We can do that. Whatever. But how bad is it?"

Bellamy pauses, not sure whether or not she should be forewarned, but eventually decided to tell because,  _to hell with it_ , she was going to find out anyway. "It's pretty bad. Worse than Lincoln."

Clarke didn't respond immediately - because they had only just barely bought Lincoln back, and she wasn't so sure she would be the best person for this job, and it must've showed when Bellamy gave her a concerned look. It was no secret that Clarke and Lexa had a fractured relationship (if you could even call it a relationship), that the blonde could hardly stand in the same room with the Commander, and immediately he decided to backtrack over his words. "I don't know, maybe you should let Abby deal with the initial stuff. It'll be fine."

The blonde began to pull off her recyclable medic gloves, shoving them into the man's free hand. "No. I'll go. They asked for me."

"Trust me Clarke, maybe it wouldn't be the best if you were there." Clarke scoffed, making to push past him, when he stopped her by grabbing her wrist with his glove-filled hand and tugging her around to face him. "Just be careful, okay? She ripped apart 6 warriors before they could chain her to something."

The blonde gave him one of her looks (she was struggling to hide her uncertainty and confusion and just emotions in general and now he was just making it fucking harder, _goddamnit_ Bellamy), flicking his hand away and tossing the all-too-casual remark over her shoulder, "If I survived Mount Weather, I'll survive this, too."

 

Reaching the specified prison bay cell, she nodded to the soldiers standing guard, ignoring the not-so-subtle glances they gave each other as they unlocked the doors and swung them open for her to enter. 

Clarke hesitated before going over the threshold, eyeing the dark band of steel that marked the doorway - this was it. This was the first time she'd see Lex- no, the Grounder Commander - again after Mount Weather in a manner that wasn't strictly 'professional'. No, this time, she would be required to  _care_  about the Commander in order to help her pull through. She would have to leave her grudge behind walking into that room. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the torture room, and the smell of rotting blood, pus, sweat, fresh blood, filth, and something metallic smashed into her as one ugly combination. Abby looked up to greet her daughter with a grim glance, clipboard in hand. Looking more to the right, trying to ignore the smell, she made eye contact with the Commander. Clarke would have physically staggered backwards a step or two if she had been the same girl from a few years ago. She thought Bellamy had been exaggerating how bad it could have been when he said that both Indra and Octavia retched, but now she just felt like doing the exact same thing.

The woman was chained with her back to a rotational surgical table that was currently horizontal, her outstretched limbs secured to four points. Matted, bloodied hair that had fallen out of intricate plaits long ago was flipped over to one side of her face. The deerskin pants she was wearing were torn and ragged, the reinforcing metal bands long gone, and the filthy material that bound her breasts was coming undone. The Commander's kohl had been smudged and mingled with blood over time, and now it looked as if the only skin on her face that was clear of the sickening mix was the top of her nose and her forehead. Semi-dried blood seemed to have permanently stained the woman's jaw in clumps, some forming strands that dangled off her face that sharply contrasted with the froth dripping down from the woman's mouth. The strain her muscles were enduring to hold her stance was visible, continuously flexing and moving underneath her skin, as she struggled to keep her body in a consistent position. There was a large gash in her left leg, flesh torn, and Clarke wasn't sure if it was actually dangling or not. Numerous wounds, grazes, and bruises littered the woman's body, still oozing blood and pus, and there were trails of blood on the shiny metal of the table.

Clarke had been prepared to see blood, to see smudged kohl and ripped flesh. It was simply what came with the medic territory. What she hadn't prepared to see was the contrasting four white lines running diagonally over the Commander's face, the blood-stained teeth, and the wild, feral way the Commander looked at her - it was almost as if Clarke was water, and she was parched. The blonde took a tentative step forward, just to retreat back that same step when the Commander lurched forward, limbs struggling against their chain bonds to get at her, veins in her muscles bulging, all fully fledged growls and wild eyes. But Clarke couldn't decide whether the physical state of the Commander, or that the Commander didn't seem to show any signs of recognition of her, was worse. However, she could safely decide that the fact she cared was the worst.

 

"She reacts strongly to you, sky girl." Clarke turned around to see Indra standing in the corner with some other Grounders she didn't recognize. Indra didn't meet the blonde's gaze.

"What do you mean?" A half-scream, half-grunt came from the Commander. Heavy duty chains rattled, tensing and slacking as the Commander continued her fruitless attempts to lunge for the woman standing a few feet away. The blonde tried not to wince at the sounds and the movement of air brushing over her skin.

Indra met Clarke's gaze this time. "She lunged for you almost immediately. When anyone else went near her, she would wait until they came too close, and then attack."

Abby physically jolts before her words come out in a tumble, "So you're saying she mainly retains some sort of conscious thought and has shown to have at least some tactic in her attacks?"

Indra hesitates, jaw clenching, her gaze still fixated on Clarke. "Yes." Clarke would be surprised if anyone else had shown this sort of behaviour in a reaper state. But then, this was their Commander. She wouldn't expect anything less from the almighty Grounder Commander. Because that would be weakness. "That doesn't matter at this moment. What we want to know, Sky People, is if she can be cured. Can you do it?"

The blonde gestured for one of the soldiers to give her his electric baton, before pressing the button, releasing crackling blue electricity that ran up the length of the slim steel rod. "Yes." Abby lunged forward at Clarke's response, gripping her daughter's shoulder in a tight grip.

"Clarke, you can't be sure that she won't hurt you. Or that she can even be healed at all. She's been exposed to the Red for a long time, just take a look at her."

Clarke looked up at the Commander, stepping a few slightly hesitant steps closer, just out of the reach of the Reaper. It was obvious now that she had taken a better look that simply being a Reaper had took its toll on the woman - her ribs were sticking out of her skin, her skin had become paler, and she was starting to show signs of being malnourished. "I'll take that risk. And you," Clarke glanced at the guard, twirling the baton in her hand, "Make sure that the table is rotated 90 degrees backwards at night and throughout the day so she doesn't get exhausted from holding herself up."

That night, Clarke cried herself to sleep with the image of red-tinted green eyes, and she didn't quite know why.

 

 

It had been several days, and Clarke was getting really  _fucking_ tired of this bullshit. She had been left in charge of the Commander's recovery, since Abby's time was already strained enough between being both Co-Chancellor and the Main Overseer of the Medical Bay. And as a result, the blonde was now stuck in a room with no one other than the chained-up Commander and two soldiers. 

But that didn't bother Clarke as much as how the Commander's system was handling the Red. Typically, the turning point for curing Reapers was to inject them with a stabilizer, wait it out until there wasn't enough Red in their system to keep their heart beating, and then either apply CPR or the electric baton to jump start their heart again. The problem was, Lexa was holding out _extraordinarily_ long - the blonde allowed herself a small smile at the thought that even Reaper Lexa was stubborn - and that might have serious complications. Twirling the electric baton in her hand, Clarke eyed up the Commander, theorizing. If she didn't act soon, the Red might actually weaken Lexa enough to the point that when her heart stopped, it might do just that. Stop. Permanently. 

_... Wait._

"That's it!" Reaper Lexa had tilted her head when the blonde had spoken, eyes narrowing and muscles tensing. Clarke called over the soldiers, instructing them to hold down Lexa's limbs to prevent any resistance. "It's important that you don't let her move at all. It'll be hard, but it'll be manageable." Measuring out an amount of stimulate and transferring it to the syringe, praying to any God that she was _right_ , because she had to be _right,_  Clarke approached Lexa again. Her slightly shaking fingers prodded the inside of the other woman's elbow gently, trying to find a vein. Froth began to form at the woman's mouth as she tried to struggle against the guards, eyeing the syringe with an expression that could've been either immense anger or animal-like fear. Clarke managed to find an accessible vein just as Lexa stilled momentarily, and had seized the opportunity to insert the needle into her vein, when the woman gave an almighty jolt.

That's when everything went to hell.

The guard that had been pinning down the Commander's right arm had been caught off-guard, lost his balance, and had staggered backwards through the complex web of chains, and one of them came undone. Lexa lunged forward at Clarke again, and this time, there was a metallic hiss as the now loose chain followed the Commander's intended path. And this time, she struck true. The syringe clattered to the floor and cracked open with a sickening crunch as the Commander's hand wrapped around the blonde's neck.

It lasted longer than it should have.

Red-tinged, crazed green drilling into glossy blue. Clarke's fingers scrambled for purchase on Lexa's toned forearm, gasping and choking as she tried to escape the Commander's grasp. She couldn't breathe. _She couldn't breathe_. Her vision had started to blur when the other guard had jabbed the Commander in her ribs with his baton, calling for back up as he pulled Clarke away from the Reaper by her coat collar as the Reaper hissed in pain. Two soldiers all but bashed down the doors as they charged into the room, assault rifles at the ready, one of them firing, the bullet grazing past the side of Lexa's right hand and embedding itself in blood covered steel. Jackson had heard the alert from the Medical Bay and had rushed to the scene, stopping at the threshold while he surveyed the damage done.

Clarke gulped, raising her hand to her throat, feeling the tendons and muscles move underneath her hand. She felt an unpleasant lurch in her stomach, and swallowed, trying to fight down what would inevitably come up later. Taking a second to steady herself, she unwrapped a new syringe and filled it with the same amount of liquid as before, barking at the guards. "We need to do this again. Miller, retie and fasten the chains. You two, hold her down. Properly." 

This time, the injection was successful. Lexa relaxed slightly, and there were a few moments where nothing happened. Silence. _The calm before the storm_. Everyone in the room just stood in their silence bliss, glad that part was over. Then Lexa violently started to seize up, frothing at the mouth, before slumping completely.

"Shit."

Clarke fired up the electric baton she had taken from the guard on the first day that had been hanging on her belt, feeling the electricity begin to thrum through it as she adjusted her clammy, two-handed grip on it, aiming underneath Lexa's left breast. Without a second thought, she thrust it into the Reaper, jaw clenching as Lexa's body arched upwards with the electric current, jolting all too violently; before slumping when the current was broken as the baton was withdrawn, the chains going taut as they supported her weight. The blonde steadied herself and tried again, because this never worked on the first time, anyway. Lexa's body arched again as the electricity made her body its circuit, and slumped as soon as it was withdrawn again. Clarke tried again. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing.

And she tried again. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. She was about to try again, when Jackson stepped forwards and enclosed her hands with one of his his, halting the movement. "Clarke, she's gone."

"No."

"She is. Look at her."

"No.  _No, no, no."_

_Lexa can't die. She can't die, she can't die, she can't die._ _She can't die. She's not allowed to fucking die._ Tears threatened, and Clarke couldn't bear to look at the slumped body. No. She threw the baton down on the medical trolley, whispering ' _No no no,_ ' to herself underneath her breath.

A small, shuddering breath.

Clarke looked up, praying she was right. Praying that she had heard that. She stepped closer to Lexa, hoping, praying. And Clarke was sure she hadn't felt relief this strong ever before as she saw the woman's chest slowly rise and fall, and she heard one, small, tiny word.

"Clarke?"

 

 

Abby glanced up at Clarke, before continuing to fill out the patient cover sheet she had in front of her. "Clarke, you'll have to do it. She won't let me touch her, let alone anyone else. You're the only one she has responded to." Her mother put down the sheet, swearing to fix that bed's faulty clipboard, before moving to another patient's bed with her daughter hot on her heels. 

"You can't honestly expect me to look after her anymore then helping her to get rid of the Red. Not after what she's done. Not after what she's done to  _me_."

Abby closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were counting to ten in her head before sighing and scribbling something down on the clipboard. "What she has done, is remained in a truce with our people, which developed into an alliance. And you know just as well as I do that we wouldn't have been able to survive without the Grounders these past few years. That's what she's done to you, Clarke. We need to uphold our end." Looking up at Clarke, daring her daughter to protest, she continued. "Now, once you stop acting like a child - which better be soon, because the Commander is not in good shape after what she's been through - there's a bucket of moonshine with cloths soaking in it, medical gloves, thread, scissors, all the things you may need in the cell already. I had Jackson carry it over there earlier. So I think you have a patient to tend to." And with that, Abby finished filling out the patient's cover sheet and clipped it to the foot of the bed, turning on her heel and walking away from Clarke's slightly dropped jaw without a single backwards glance.

Throwing her head up to the ceiling, studying the boring dark gray panels while toying with the inside corners of her coat's pockets, the blonde let out a heavy sigh. Swallowing thickly, she gathered her nerves. Just seeing Lexa in that state, no longer regal and dignified, was terrifying and it had triggered a whole load of emotions and bought to the surface memories she just didn't want to deal with. The Pauna. The constant debates. Mount Weather. The kiss. She snapped out of her short lived trip down memory lane as she was shoved out of the way of a frantic woman running to the bed of the man whose stitches she had done a few days ago. Clarke watched on, envy boiling in her chest as she watched the two lovers reunite in a public display of affection. She could've had that. She could've had that with Lexa.

Love was weakness, right? So she had to go show Lexa that she was strong.

 

 

Clarke hated how Lexa's expression softened as soon as she had seen the medic enter her cell, although she admired how much effort Lexa had to put in to crane her neck to see her initially. They still had her chained up, just in case the Red made a temporary appearance or she temporarily lost her bearings. It was a precaution they had developed through the experience of treating Reapers. Nothing like good old trial and error. She stopped in front of the Commander, cutting her off from starting to speak by raising a hand.

"Don't even say a word unless it's medically relevant." And just like that, the Commander's face hardened again, except for her eyes. 

The blonde could feel the brunette's eyes following her around the room as she pulled on her gloves, before she couldn't stand the burn anymore. Trying not to let the annoyance seep into her voice, because to Lexa, any emotion was weakness, she asked, "What's the problem, Commander?" She turned to face the woman, toying with the edge of the cloth she had plucked out of the moonshine bucket.

"Nothing." The word was slow and hoarse, her voice husky from lack of use. Clarke hated the small, somehow pride smile Lexa offered.

Slowly raising the damp cloth to Lexa's left hand, Clarke gently pried open her fingers to clean the gun-inflicted wound there, trying to ignore how the Commander's gaze was burning her skin. She was so intent on cleaning the cut that she didn't notice how the woman's fingers had started to close gently around her own, only stopping once her fingers had been enclosed tenderly by the other woman's and she wasn't able to clean out the wound any further. Only sparing a glance at Lexa, heart clenching when she was reminded of how green her eyes were (and cursing herself for giving into the urge to look in the first place), she remarked dryly, "Open your hand. Your hand will get infected if I can't clean it." The only response she got was the brunette running her thumb slowly over Clarke's hand. A few moments passed, and Lexa gingerly opened her hand again, almost as if she was giving Clarke permission to touch her. The blonde started to clean the wound again, reaching for a bandage and slowly winding it around the skin, avoiding the heavy-duty chains and securing the bandage with a small clip.

One out of who-even-knows done, who-even-knows left to go.

Kneeling down, she moved to the gash on Lexa's leg, and cut away the deer skin that had started to mesh in with the blood, trying to stifle the swirl of emotion in her chest - how was it allowed to get this bad? She rinsed a new cloth with moonshine, gently cleaning away the blood and other gory bits she couldn't identify, ignoring Lexa's small gasps every time she touched something that was a little sensitive, before gauging the size and severity of the wound. It'd need stitches. "I need to stitch this up." Clarke didn't need to look up to know that Lexa had granted her permission with a small nod. Not that she needed her permission, anyway. She decided to forgo painkillers, knowing that Lexa had refused them in the past, so she would continue to refuse them now, no matter how bad the pain was. It was stupidly noble.

Several screams, tears, and blood-stained cloths later, Clarke had cut the last stitch from the remaining thread and had bandaged it to prevent any infections. Groaning from using muscles that had been frozen into place as she rose to her feet, she swiped yet another cloth from where the cloths had been soaking in the moonshine bucket. Gradually, she worked through cleaning, stitching, and bandaging every part of Lexa except for her torso and face. She didn't know if she could deal with it. So it was with hesitant, noticeably gentler hands, that she bent down and began to wipe away the dirt and blood from Lexa's torso, trying not to let the flush in her cheeks show when she came up close to the Commander's - admittedly very defined - abdominal muscles. She could feel them tensing lightly underneath her touch as the woman tried to maintain her posture, trying as hard as she could to make Clarke's job easier. Clarke wondered if Lexa just knew what that simple motion would do to her. It was fucking annoying at times, how Lexa could see right through her. That's why it would be so much easier for Clarke to deal with this entire situation if she wasn't face-to-face with the Commander's abs.

And all-too-soon, Clarke had worked her way up past the brunette's collarbones, and now only had to clean her face. Dumping yet another ruined cloth into the now overflowing waste bucket, Clarke picked up another, now hesitantly picking at the clumps of blood that had dried onto Lexa's jaw, trying to ignore the brunette's relentless gaze. Finally managing to get one particularly hard clump free, she moved her attention to Lexa's mouth, trying to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat as she rushed through cleaning off the blood and trying to ignore how those lips had parted - oh god,  _why?_  - before wiping off the remaining mixture of kohl, dried blood, and white war paint as quickly as she could. Clarke needed to get away from this. From Lexa. But for old time's sake, she let her hand linger near Lexa's cheek, when she felt the Commander gently tilt her head into the touch.

Clarke looked up to meet the Commander's stare (she was looking at Clarke like she was the sun and it took her breath away), and tried not to gulp when she realized that Lexa was completely relaxed. Her eyelids were drooping, her breath slow and warm against her wrist, and was she  _nuzzling_  against her hand?

Stepping back abruptly, she tried to refuse to care when the Commander half-whined absentmindedly. Clarke stepped just outside the cell without sparing a backwards look, trying to swallow past the lump of emotions in her throat. She gestured for one of the guards to come in, before gesturing to the still-bound woman with one of her gloved hands. "The Commander has been stitched and cleaned up. We'll be able to move her to confined bed rest in the quarantine ward now. Make sure she has two guards at all times, we don't know for certain that the drug has been flushed completely from her system. But for now, it's unlikely that it'll resurface."

Sweeping out of the room and towards the medic bay, Clarke took off her medic gloves, balling them up and tucked them into her coat. Her job was done. Commander Lexa had been turned into a Reaper, and Clarke had bought her back. They could go back to stiffly ignoring each other, and Clarke was okay with that.

 

"You need to stop avoiding her, Clarke." 

"You don't know shit, Raven."

"She's been coming to Camp Jaha for the past few days. Looking for you. Give the woman a chance, you saved her from the Red." The blonde glared up at her friend from her untouched, extremely late lunch. Raven only laughed. "Clarke, you two just need to emotionally fuck it out already. _Relax_. Stop playing these glare-at-each-other-with-"fuck me"-eyes-from-across-the-room-and-make-everyone-else-in-the-same-room-uncomfortable or avoiding-each-other-to-cause-the-other-extreme-angst-and-lust games. It's been several years. How either of you managed to survive that long is beyond me." Spying Monty walking in, Clarke excuses herself to sit with him instead, throwing a " _FUCK YOU RAVEN REYES_ ," over her shoulder at a laughing Raven.

The next day, Clarke had finished her medic shift during the late afternoon, retiring to her room to try and get rid of the images of the woman dying on the surgery table from that morning. She couldn't do anything, and now that woman's family was crying over her sheet-covered body. Someone knocked on her door, and she quickly composed herself, wiping the tears as she called for them to come in (secretly wishing they hadn't heard the crack in her voice). It was when she turned to see who it was, that she really wished she had waited a little bit longer to gather her composure. Lexa stood in the entrance to Clarke's room, tall and proud, already dressed in her trademark armour despite having been a Reaper not even a week ago, although she had forgone the kohl. "I wanted to thank you, Clarke." Clarke detested the way her name rolled off Lexa's tongue so smoothly.

"And now you've done it." 

"That is true."

Neither of them moved, waiting for the other to make a move. The blonde expected the brunette to leave, and the brunette expected the blonde to lash out. Lexa wasn't stupid, she could see Clarke's anger shimmer underneath the surface of her skin, and eventually it would either consume her from the inside or it would erupt. All it needed was a catalyst, and she needed to protect Clarke. And if that meant serving as her punching bag, she would do it. "Do you remember it?" Clarke started, and then abruptly stopped before she expanded on the question that was left hanging in the air between them. She didn't want to get any more involved than she had already been. Because love is weakness. It was because she had loved Lexa, that she had her heart broken. It was because she had loved her people, that she had killed all of the Mountain Men without a second thought. And it had led to this moment.

"Remember what, Clarke?" The blonde cursed herself. Of course Lexa wouldn't just shrug and drop it.

"Remember what happened while you were a Reaper." Lexa stiffened, holding her chin up even higher.

"I remember everything." Lexa's emotionless monotone was starting to get to Clarke, and she could feel the scathing fingers of rage starting to constrict her chest.

"Good, I hope you fucking remember  _everything._ I hope you remember leaving these." The blonde was approaching the brunette in the blindness of her sudden rage, stopping only half a foot from her. Her hands fumbled at the zipper of her jacket, yanking it down and pulling the collar aside. Bright purple and dark brown bruises in the shape of fingers and hands were coiled around the blonde's neck, in stark contrast to her natural skin colour.

She wore them like battle scars, and maybe they were.

Lexa's face paled as she saw the full extent of the damage _she_ had caused, reaching out to ghost her fingers over the bruises. The blonde shuddered underneath her touch, jaw clenching and heart racing. "I'm sorry, Clarke."

"For what?" Lexa looked away from her, instead focusing on staring out Clarke's bedroom window. 

"Everything."

"Like?"

"The Mountain. Becoming a Reaper. Kissing you."

"... And why would you be sorry for that?"

"Because it is causing you distress. I never meant to distress you, Clarke. And I did not have a chance to apologize to you."

"I don't want your apology."

"Then what do you want, Clarke?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you acting like a child?" Lexa made eye contact with the blonde again, eyes cold and guarded. Almost disappointed. 

"Because I had to grow up too fast, Lexa. My father was floated because of my mother. I was sent to a planet with 99 other kids with no supplies, no help, no nothing. We unknowingly started a war with the Grounders - who we didn't even know existed until you speared Jasper - who knew more about Earth than what we did. I fell in love with a boy who went mad and became a monster when he murdered 18 innocent people from a Grounder village. We had to make a truce with the Grounders - who we knew _nothing_ about - when people stuck in some stupid mountain started to harvest our blood and our bone marrow, killing us in the process. Then the Ark came down, and we were only just barely surviving then. The Grounders -  _you_ \- indirectly made me kill the boy that I was in love with. And then you came in. You listened to me, you challenged me, you made me feel like a human again... Wait, not human, a teenager. And then you kissed me, but I wasn't ready yet even though I really wanted to be, and then you betrayed me by leaving me on Mt. Weather.  _Alone._ And I had to kill over 300 people. By myself. Because of  _you._ And ever since, you've become my people's ally. You've helped us, I know.  _But you made me kill those people, Lexa, because you decided to save yours._ And I wish I could hate you for it, but I don't, because I would do the exact same thing if I was in your position." Clarke finished her rant, chest heaving and tears threatening again, folding her arms and trying not to look Lexa in the eye. 

Then Lexa spoke, soft and tender - "Are you done yet?"

"No." And then Clarke slapped Lexa, putting all of the strength she could possibly conquer behind it. She felt some sort of sick pleasure when the brunette's neck snapped to face the other way with the force of her slap. Lexa swallowed, red rushing to her slapped cheek.

"Are you done now?"

"Shit, I'm sorry, I just -" Clarke trailed off, reaching out for her, running her thumb over the rising red. 

"Does it help?"

The blonde blushed. She had just slapped the Grounder Commander for her personal vendetta. Would it be bad if she admitted it? But then, she had already dug herself a massive grave anyway, so what would one more admission do? "... Yes."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

"I know. I appreciate it."

And then the brunette tried to jump off into the deep end. "Clarke of the Sky People?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you decide to heal me when I was a Reaper? Why not just let me run rampant as an uncontrollable savage - would it not have been a fit punishment for my actions?"

"Because - Because I just couldn't leave  _you_ like that."

"You could have left me behind."

Lexa looked up, smiling slightly. It was one of those smiles that just tugged on the corners of her mouth, and Clarke felt like that time they had been trapped in the Pauna cage. When she couldn't leave Lexa behind, even though it would have made her life easier. They stood like that for awhile, Lexa smiling at Clarke like the blonde was her own personal sun, and Clarke trying to soothe the red hand mark on the brunette's cheek. 

"I think there's one last part of my treatment left."

Clarke frowned, had she forgotten something? "What?"

Lexa raised her hand to Clarke's chin, tilting her head upwards. When she leaned in, it was slower, more deliberate, giving Clarke the option to back away if she wanted to. The blonde froze, and then molded her lips to hers. Lexa had been expecting her to pull away, but she hadn't expected to be backed out into the hallway in the heat of the moment, right into none other than Raven Reyes.

 

_"GET A FUCKING ROOM!_ " 

 

They broke apart, Lexa flushing red, Clarke biting her lip. "Jesus, I was just joking. Keep smooching, I saw nothing Commander Hearteyes and Love Doctor." Raven punched Clarke's arm and hobbled away as fast as she could, laughing all the way around the corner.

"Did that make you feel better?"

Lexa smiled as she watched the corner where Raven had disappeared to make sure no one was coming, brushing her fingers over her lips as if she couldn't believe it. Realizing Clarke was waiting for an answer, she blushed and murmured a small, barely audible, "Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any inaccuracies!


End file.
